


Roast Martin

by itstonedme



Series: The Hobbit Chapter Title series [2]
Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cast and crew are back in Wellington as principal location photography comes to an end.  Other featured characters include Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, Aidan Turner, Dean O'Gorman, Andy Serkis, James Nesbitt, Graham McTavish, Adam Brown, Mark Hadlow, Evangeline Lilly, Ian Holm, Jed Brophy, with honorable mentions of Michael Fassbender, James McAvoy and Sean Bean.</p>
<p>This is a follow up story to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/647160">An Unexpected Journey</a>, one that also plays on the chapter titles of Tolkien's <i>The Hobbit,</i> this time the second one ("Roast Mutton").  Liberties have been taken with the timeline of principal production. First posted on LJ <a href="http://itstonedme.livejournal.com/87685.html#cutid1">here</a>.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: Complete fiction, with no disrespect intended to anyone.</p>
<p>Feedback: Always welcomed and appreciated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roast Martin

Both production units finish location shooting within days of each another, and the decree goes forth that in the brief interim before cast and crew move back onto the sound stages, there shall be a mini wrap party. As if they don't have enough falling off the edges of their plates, Peter further decrees that he and Fran shall host it at theirs, in Wairarapa. Ian plays the knighthood card and claims the Bag End guest cottage in the back yard for the overnight.

Jimmy badgers Ian good-naturedly upon hearing of this. "You think you'd let some of us have a chance. You've stayed there a few times already whereas we little people have not."

"I'm not one to turn down a roommate, if you are so inclined," Ian replies with one raised brow and tip of the head. 

"Bah," Jimmy replies, volleying back the comment with his hand. "You old gay mares ain't what you used to be." 

"There might be a few stallions here in Wellington – not strangers to us all – who would beg to differ," Ian rebutts with a twinkle. 

"Bah," Jimmy says a little more loudly because now he's wondering who. Or is it 'whom'? Ian's done Shakespeare, he would know.

"Bah what?" Martin asks, sidling up to the conversation.

Ian nods a passing greeting to Luke as he walks by.

"Jaysus," Jimmy breathes, eyes tracking from Luke's retreating back to Ian's amused face.

"Jaysus what?" Martin asks.

"Jaysus fucking Murphy, there's more fruit at this party than in a Florida citrus grove," Jimmy responds, clinking his glass to Ian's, then Martin's, and wandering off in search of more heterosexual conversation.

*

"Bloom should be here," Richard says to Luke as they stand near a burbling man-made waterfall that Fran and Peter had put in on the far side of the hobbit hole. "He was always good for some devilry. I miss him."

"Aye," Luke nods. A burst of high-pitched laughter catches his ear and then his eye. "There's always Frodo," he says. Elijah is in town because of some scenes he shot a few weeks back, and now they can't get rid of him.

"Not the same," Richard says, taking in the goofiness with which Elijah is entertaining Evangeline and a few dwarves. "Too many pointy angles. Not enough mischief."

"Aye," Luke agrees. "Although he's pretty like Bloom."

They both watch Elijah for a bit. "Frodo!" Richard eventually calls out, and when Elijah's neck cranes to the name, Richard angles his elbow, beckoning him over.

Elijah cuts a crooked path in their direction. "Gentlemen," he nods, playing it sober even though he isn't fooling anyone.

"Show Luke your tattoo," Richard says. 

"Ah-ah-ah," Elijah grins, waggling the two fingers that pinch his cigarette. "I know what you're up to." No one will ever say there's moss growing on him. "You just want me to pull down my fucking pants."

Richard and Luke glance at each other. "He's quick," Richard says.

"Very," Luke agrees.

"Here," Elijah says, parking his cigarette between his teeth and handing Luke his beer bottle so that he can push down the waist band on his jeans.

*

Jimmy has wandered back into Ian's penumbra. Funny how another couple of Guinesses can do that. "So what's next?" he asks Ian.

"Well," Ian says, dipping his head towards Jimmy to impart a secret. "It's not official yet, but I suspect I'll be returning to _X-Men_ sometime this Spring."

"No!" Jimmy gasps excitedly. 

Ian nods sagely. "The reboot," he further informs. "I just might get a chance to meet and woo another of your fellow countrymen at that."

It takes Jimmy a second to register this news, sloshing faces from _First Class_ around his memory for a bit. The light bulb warms rather dimly, but when it finally turns on, the revelation is writ large on his face. "Not Fassbender!" he says, his brows a pair of matted black arches.

Ian nods with a wink.

Belfast-born or no, an Irishman's an Irishman. "No fucking way," Jimmy declares sharply. "You _cannot_ bugger Bobby Sands. Pick that mouthy wee Scot instead," referring to _First Class'_ other lead. "He looks like he's ripe for an arse reaming."

"Now, now," Ian says, lamenting the Irish, their liquor and arses won and lost in general.

*

The two Bilbos are deep in conversation, Martin gesticulating madly over some point or another. Whatever it is they are discussing, Holm is in apparent agreement as his head keeps bobbing up and down.

Dean is watching them from across the crowded lawn. "I think Peter's spiked the liquor," he tells Aidan, shaking his head to clear it. "I'm starting to see double."

Serkis walks up behind both of them and claps an arm around each of their shoulders. "I need your help," he tells Dean and Aidan. "We need to pry Ian away from Martin so that we have Martin alone."

"Oh thank fuck," Dean says, getting with the visual program.

"What's up?" Aidan asks all perky-like because it's been more than forty-eight hours since they were on a quest and he's jonesing. 

"We've arranged for Richard to take Martin aside and try to seduce him in Bag End. We've sound wired the rooms into the speaker system."

"Brilliant," Aidan grins. "But Richard's straight."

Andy lets that hang.

"No!" Dean shrieks. "Not Thorin Oakenshield!"

"Ah, he's yanking yer chain," Aidan tells Dean. "You think Martin will buy it?" he asks Andy.

"Richard tells me he can sell it. He's been sowing the seeds back to when Orlando was here." 

"Ahhhh!" both Dean and Aidan erupt into each other's faces, remembering one night in particular at a local club.

"So what I need," Andy continues, "is that once the sound goes live, for you two to let the others in on what's up."

Aidan high-fives Andy. "Done, my captain." 

*

"So tell me," Luke inquires of Elijah, "why did you decide to get your tattoo way down there? It has to have been very tender."

Elijah is stroking his nine fondly, quite possibly lost in memories of The Fellowship's heyday, misspent youth and Dom's kisses, not necessarily in that order, but the net result is that Richard and Luke can't take their eyes off it. "I didn't want it to be somewhere visible in future films," he says.

Both Richard and Luke exchange a look. "Planning on going shirtless in an action film?" Richard says.

Elijah squints up at him through the smoke he's exhaled. "You never know."

"Have you any more of those hidden away?" Luke inquires.

"Ah-ah-ah," Elijah waggles.

*

There's a group of dwarves and elves standing near the bar, catching up.

"I couldna' done it," Graham says to Lee with regard to the latter's turn in _Soldier's Girl._ "I mean, to let a man lay between m' legs, grinding away, shoving his tongue down m' throat. No way."

Lee's grinning. "You do what you have to do, soldier," he says in Calpurnia's voice. "Whatever pays the bills."

"Done what?" Martin asks, strolling into the conversation. Aidan and Dean have stolen Ian off on some secret mission.

"Worn tits for one thing," Graham exclaims. "Paraded half naked."

"I've paraded full naked," Martin says proudly. "Live in bushy splendour on a stage."

"I _know!_ " Adam gushes breathlessly, and Martin looks at him sideways with a frown.

"You mean, you wouldn't let me rub my pean up against yours?" Mark says as he grabs Graham from behind in a bear hug.

"Nor up me arse, you old pervert," Graham harrumphs. "Get off!"

"They were tits to die for," Evangeline tells Lee. "Seriously."

Lee strokes his flat chest. "Made to measure," he says proudly. 

"Did they feel like real tits?" Jed asks.

"From which side?" Lee teases. "The wearing side or the fondling side?"

Jed's smile slides to one side of his mouth. "Mate, there's only one side that counts."

"I think you could be a trannie," Mark tells Graham. "A fucking ugly one, but you could do it. It got Sean Bean a Royal Telly award, and look at how ugly he was."

"And you're used to wearing skirts," Adam adds.

"Those are _kilts_ ," Graham says pointedly. 

"Was _Soldier's Girl_ really your first film?" Evangeline asks Lee to which he nods.

"Oh jeez," Graham exclaims. "You could have been tainted for life."

"But look at where I ended up," Lee says. "King of the Elves, heartthrob to millions."

Mark digs his elbow into Graham's side. "See? And to think it all started with two dicks playing swords."

"Martin." Richard has just walked up to their group. "Can I see you a minute?"

As they walk away, Martin asks, "What's up?" 

Richard throws an arm around Martin's shoulder. "We're going to play a prank on Sir Ian because he went and bagged Bag End yet again so that none of us were able to book it. I need your help." 

"Perfect," Martin grins. "What's the prank?"

They've arrived near the doorway of the hobbit hole. "I'll tell you inside," Richard says. "Is anyone looking?" he adds conspiratorially.

Martin instantly goes into burglar mode. "We're good," he whispers, looking around.

They slip inside.

"What's the prank?" Martin asks.

Richard puts his hand on Martin's back to steer him back to the bedroom. "You don't have to whisper," Richard tells him. "We're going to put something in his bed."

"Perfect!" Martin exclaims again.

They walk down the hallway, past the study and the kitchen, beyond the larder – all remarkable replications of the actual sound stage – until they arrive at the bedroom. Back here, it is very hard to hear the music from the party. Martin bets that one could enjoy the sleep of the dead this deep into the earth, it is so cool and quiet. The bed itself is enormous; an actual hobbit would need a step stool to climb up onto it. In fact, one playing a hobbit probably would too; the top of it is crotch height on Martin. Fran and Pete have had the coverlet turned down with a vase of roses on the side table. The perks of being a Gandalf, it would seem.

"So what are we putting in his bed?" Martin asks.

Richard turns to him. "You."

*

"What the fuck?" Elijah says because what's a sentence without a profanity? The music had died mid-lyric, and many shushing sounds are being made throughout the crowd. 

"Everyone, listen up," Andy says into a microphone. "We're playing a prank on Martin. He's inside Bag End with Richard and we're going to switch on the sound from there."

"Fuck, no," Elijah laughs. He turns to Luke. "You ever been punked?"

Luke shrugs like he has no idea what Elijah is talking about.

"It's not pretty," Elijah says.

*

Martin stands there, wearing what he knows is his silly smile, the one with fuck-me puzzlement written all over it.

"I'm kidding!" Richard laughs. He leans forward and plants his hands on the coverlet. "Good grief. This is some mattress. Check it out."

Martin tentatively walks up to the mattress, because that last comment made his radar/gaydar fire up, and now that he's alone with Richard, it's hard to extinguish it. All sorts of past observations are popping to mind. "So what are we putting in his bed?" he asks again.

"Why would a hobbit need a king-sized bed?" Richard asks, ignoring Martin. He presses down repeatedly with his palms so that the mattress springs up and down beneath them. He looks sideways to Martin standing next to him. "Unless, of course, he had invited a king to share it with him," he adds softly. "A king accustomed to living under the earth as well."

Martin laughs through his nose. Rather, he smiles and something gusts out of him, but really, it's not very funny, what Richard just said. Or maybe it is, he can't figure it out. 

Here it is again, one of those occasions in life where what he hears isn't really jiving with the sum total of his human experience up until this point. To wit: Richard is his colleague and, he has hoped, his mate. Richard is the retiring type, good fun, always decent, always polite, always _safe_. Suggesting that Bilbo might he hosting Thorin beneath the sheets is not safe, definitely not, even if they are fictional characters. Because that's just a transference of what Richard is really suggesting. And what this is, right there, is decidedly not safe. In fact, it is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Martin is married, for heaven's sake. It matters not whether the proffered equipment is male or female when one is asked to breach one's vows. 

But at the end of all that, Martin decides that this is _not_ what Richard is implying because Richard just wouldn't. "It's a big bed because they rent it out to Ian more than anyone else, and everyone knows that Ian never sleeps alone," he says. 

Out at the party, an amused _whoa_ goes through the crowd, and Ian smiles magnanimously and nods to accept the compliment.

Richard looks back at the coverlet and sighs. "Then I envy him," he says.

"So what are we putting in the bed?" Martin asks for the third and final time because – ding! – he's used up all his free chances.

Richard turns and sits on the edge of the bed. His shoulders slump; he seems defeated. He looks up at Martin through his broody Thorin brows. "I really wasn't kidding," he says. "I really would have loved to put you in it. With me."

Okay. Okay. Martin can't ignore that one. There it is, on the table, with a place card and his name on it.

"Richard," he laughs defensively. "As tempting as that is – because truly, you are a beautiful man, everyone says that, you've got an army of women to prove it, and they are _women_ , if you know…what I mean…"

"Will you at least kiss me?" Richard asks.

Martin makes a noise, one that he hopes isn't offensive. It's more an explosion of the breath he was holding. He starts to hem and haw, his weight shifting from one leg to the other. "I really don't think that's a good idea."

"Please, Martin," Richard asks softly. "I'll never speak of it again."

On the lawns outside, one could drop a pin.

The silence between Martin and Richard hangs heavily as they stare at each other. Finally, Martin says brightly (because when one isn't sure, being a good sport should be the default), "All right. Just one. And no hands. Or tongue."

Richard lifts his chin, his wide palms gripping his thighs to follow the rules, and Martin steps forward, hesitantly, finally leaning down and softly kissing Richard's lips. "Thank you," Richard breathes.

Outside, a roar of approval goes up.

Inside, Martin straightens up with his ear towards the bedroom door, a frown forming once more. Richard picks up the television remote on the bedside table and turns on the TV.

"Martin," a voice says, and Martin turns towards the TV. There, upon the screen, is Orlando.

"Congratulations, Martin," Orlando says, "on engaging with Thorin on the field of battle and granting him a victory. God knows there will be precious few coming his way. We have it on good and plentiful authority that Richard's kisses are exceptionally memorable, and now you will be able to add to this profound fund of knowledge. But all humour aside, congratulations on completing principal location photography. You have been an amazing Bilbo, and we are all truly honoured to have shared that experience with you."

"Is this," Martin points to the screen, looking from it to Richard and back again, "is he live?"

"He filmed it last night in Cape Town. He didn't know if he'd be free this evening."

Martin laughs. The film has ended and Orlando is frozen there. "Bastards," he says. "You two are bloody bastards."

Richard turns off the TV and replaces the remote on the bedside table. "You are so easy," he laughs. "Let's go back out."

"I will get you back," Martin tells him as he walks ahead, his finger punctuating the air. "Sometime, someplace, I will get you both."

"I have no doubt," Richard chuckles.

When Martin steps through the door of Bag End, he is assailed with a roar of cheers and applause, the lawn illuminated by a large screen of Orlando's frozen face from the video he watched inside. He groans. "How much did they hear?" he says, turning to Richard.

"I suspect all of it."

"Ohhh," Martin grimaces, but already, he is being surrounded by well-wishers with more than one drink being thrust his way. Peter and Fran hang back, but Martin finds them in the crowd and points at them accusingly before breaking into an enormous smile. 

*

"What on earth are you doing?" Ian says to Luke's behind which is sticking out from under the front hall bench.

"Checking for microphones," Luke says from where he kneels. "I don't trust Armitage further than I can toss him."

"One would hope you haven't tossed him at all," Ian says, and Luke shows his mirth by rapidly beating the toes of his boots against the stonework.

"I'd better go check the bedroom," Ian says as he makes off down the hall.


End file.
